


So the Story Goes

by writerllofllworlds



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Peter Parker, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Out of Character May Parker (Spider-Man), Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Angst, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Peter Parker is a Mess, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Lives, Tony Stark is Good With Kids, and then hurt/comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:33:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24501652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writerllofllworlds/pseuds/writerllofllworlds
Summary: His life could be a whole lot worse.Or so the story goes.May and her husband are not the greatest parents, Tony Stark is in a coma, and Peter Parker is starting to think he never really returned from the Soul Stone at all.
Relationships: May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Pepper Potts, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 29
Kudos: 622
Collections: IronDad (and his Spiderson)





	So the Story Goes

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not dead!
> 
> Life has been HELL guys. Sorry it has taken me so darn long to post another story. I am a recent highschool graduate (as of last week) and corona school life has SUCKED ASS. 
> 
> So yeah. 
> 
> Here's Peter Parker angst because I have no self-control. 
> 
> Also, I love May Parker. But I villainize her a bit. Please don't kill me.
> 
> Enjoy! As always, comments are appreciated. 
> 
> Love you all 3000. Stay safe out there, heroes.

His life could be a whole lot worse.

Or so the story goes. 

...

Peter was not entirely sure if he was real. 

It was a funny thing, the first day back to school after returning from the dead. Most other days he didn’t feel real either, but today especially it seemed to be bad. The logical part of him tried to reason out why. Could his strong dissociation be caused by the fact that his two best friends were both five years older than him now and had graduated from Midtown three years ago? Perhaps. It could be because of the fact that everything in the world was so different now and he knew school would be the same - maybe worse. It might be because Flash had been “blipped” too and Peter knew that if he was bad back then… well, he’d be lucky if he didn’t leave school with more bruises than when he’d arrived. 

Perhaps it was a conglomeration of all these things. Perhaps it was something else entirely. All Peter knew for certain was that he woke up wishing he wasn’t alive at all. He’d felt that before, of course, he was a teenage superhero weighed down by every single death he could not prevent with crippling anxiety and PTSD ( _ ugly words, ugly, ulgy words you just want attention _ ), but the “absent days” made all of those lovely feelings all the worse. Suddenly he wasn’t just having a panic attack, he was having a silent panic attack where the world around him disappeared and he didn’t care. 

Peter didn’t know it was possible for him not to care. His emotions had always been worn on the cuff of his sleeve, over his heart, written across his face. Even when struggling with depression before the Blip, he had always felt everything. All the different pains of loss and sadness that filled him like a raging ocean. The new and improved type of desolation was terrifying, and many times Peter would wake from stretches of this nothing like he’d been dreaming, all loud gasps and wide eyes because he didn’t feel a thing. 

He wondered if all of him came back. He wondered if part of him, the part of him that made him whole, was still in the Soul Stone. 

He did not sleep anymore. Ever since he had been remade on that orange planet and swung through the golden portal - ever since he’d heard Tony’s heart stop for those few devastating moments - Peter had not been able to stay in dreamland for more than two hours a night. He knew it was bad. He understood that it was beyond just bad, but with Tony in recovery and May and her husband not entirely perceptive, well, he suffered in silence. He was good at that. 

His alarm clock would not ring for another two hours, but Peter decided it was better to go ahead and get up. No use laying around in bed and doing nothing. Swinging his legs over the side of his small bed, he pushed himself to his feet and staggered towards his bathroom. He could hear the two heartbeats a room over, in sync and slow. May and Trent were blissfully unaware of the chaos wrecking the mind and body of the kid next door. His aunt had been different when he’d returned. She was distant now; the love was still there, Peter supposed, but lots of the time she looked at him like he wasn’t there, or like he was a ghost. He was only real sometimes, and those times were sometimes worse. May would stiffen as her gaze met his, she would give him tense hugs and kiss his forehead because she knew he liked it, not because she felt comfortable. He knew that the five years had really affected her, she’d fallen into alcoholism and depression. He had done that to her. Trent had helped her and along the way, they’d fallen in love. 

Peter got it. He did. Just because he understood didn’t mean he felt any less like a burden.

He flipped on the bathroom light and instantly regretted it. He hated mirrors, he had discovered. Upon his return, the first time he’d seen his reflection he had wanted to vomit. He was made entirely of pale skin and dark bruises now. He was still strong, still fit as a fiddle, and any other kid his age would have been psyched by the six-pack he had. All he saw was an empty shell. He was sunken, small, weak.

Peter Parker was no hero. 

Living was hard now. He wished wanting to live wasn’t so hard.

He reached for the washcloth hanging beside the sink and drenched it in warm water. He began washing his face, careful of the bruise on his chin that he’d gotten during last night’s patrol, and avoided looking at his eyes. His eyes were the things he despised most about himself. They scared him. Tony had always described them as big and warm and full of laughter. Peter scoffed. He wouldn’t say that now. 

He wasn’t sure how long he stared at the towel in his hands, but the water had chilled and made his hands clammy by the time he awoke from his stupor. He placed the cloth down, relishing the cold feeling on his skin. At least he could feel that. At least he wasn’t numb. 

At least he wasn’t in the Soul Stone anymore. 

Peter had always been good at pushing away his negative emotions under the assumption that “it could be worse.” When he was younger, a few weeks after his parent’s funeral, he’d been crying on the swings outside his preschool, and this other kid had come up to him and told him to stop bawling like a baby. He’d ordered it, almost, as much as a five-year-old could order anything, and shouted, “At least you still have a family!” He might have been trying to help and didn’t know how. Kids did that a lot. Whatever his intentions, Peter had held onto that sentiment for, well, his entire life. His life could be worse. He could be starving or suicidal or homeless or abandoned. He could be alone with no one else in the entire world. 

So…

At least he wasn’t dead anymore?

He sighed, shaking his head. God, he was a mess. It was good that he acknowledged this specific quandary. Wasn’t that the first step to getting help? 

If only the person who would drop anything to help him wasn’t in a coma. 

Peter walked back into his room right as his alarm went off. Two hours. He’d been in the bathroom for two full hours. Turning it off, he sat on the edge of his bed and picked up his phone. Pepper had promised to call immediately whenever Tony woke up. He had been there the first week of his recovery, when he’d been surrounded by every tube and wire imaginable, but after watching his heart give out twice, Peter had decided to return with May to Manhattan. Pepper had kissed him on the forehead and sworn that he would be the first person she informed of any change. Three months had gone by, and he’d gotten updates, but nothing inviting him to visit. Only that Tony was still recovering, that he had woken up several times but never fully coherent. Helen was confident he would be fine, and  _ no  _ one could fault him for his body taking a few months to recuperate. Wielding the Infinity Stones should have killed him. 

Peter just wished he would wake up and come to save him. Tony had always been good at saving Peter. 

He swallowed, shoving his school stuff into his backpack, and swung it over his shoulder. He could hear Trent and May rustling around in the kitchen, his aunt’s warm laughter loud and wonderful. It was odd to hear her so jubilant. He had not been witness to the full expanse of her laughter since Ben had died. 

Peter liked Trent, he really did. He was so good to May, he really  _ loved  _ her. He and Peter should have gotten along like best friends, in all accounts and purposes. He was a biochemical engineer, he respected Tony Stark, and he was cool with the whole Spiderman thing. They should have been geeking out about Calculus or watching  _ Brooklyn 99 _ together. Instead, Peter was just… there. He was an accessory at this point.

To both of them. 

May tried her best to hide it. She tried to act as if life was normal again. 

But May had grieved. She had lost and mourned and wept. And then she had moved on - and Peter would have wanted that. If he had never come back, he would have wanted her to move on from him, from the hole he left in her heart. He would have yearned for her to keep living even if he couldn’t because she deserved it. 

But that was just it. All the people who were dusted came back, and there were holes that they had left that had been filled by other things, other people. Everyone expected the “blipped” to be just fine, to fit right back into society, into their own lives, as if nothing had changed. 

Everything had changed. 

There was therapy for the ones who’d lost. There were entire clinics dedicated to those who had suffered for five years, therapists trained to deal with that specific struggle. There was medicine, new diagnostics. Doctors were taught new courses in medical school to combat the PTSD, the anxiety and depression that those people had suffered. 

There was nothing for the other half of the population. For the “remained”, the half that hadn’t been disintegrated from the face of the earth, their counterparts had never been hurt as they had. Why should they be traumatized? 

Peter would have laughed if it wasn’t so damn sad. He hadn’t just “woken up”. He hadn’t just ceased to exist. 

But what did that matter? In all honesty, everyone had lost, but no one wanted to tackle the broken minds of the “blipped”.

So… no one did. 

He slipped out of his room with a sigh. Their apartment was huge, thanks to Trent’s salary, and he weaved his way through the hallway to the living area. His aunt and his step-uncle (good God help him) were seated at the kitchen counter, a plate of bacon, bagels, and eggs between them. Or, Peter could smell the remains of such culinary delights. There was no food left. 

It was sad that he wasn’t surprised. 

May looked up when she heard him approach. She blinked in shock (she did that a lot around him) and sputtered for a moment. “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry I didn’t… here, have some of my eggs. I didn’t even…” her words trailed off, but Peter got the gist.

That was another...  _ thing _ . May kept forgetting he was there. Peter assumed it was her traumatized brain trying to reconcile him being alive again, but there had been so many instances when she’d forgotten to get him takeout or when she hadn’t realized he’d been sleeping (or not sleeping he guessed) on the floor for the first four weeks after he’d returned to the apartment. It was just another reminder that he wasn’t supposed to be back. 

“Oh, sorry, Pete!” Trent glanced down at his own plate, but it looked as if it had been licked clean. 

“No, it’s alright. I’ll grab something on the way to school.” He had packed his wallet for that specific purpose. “There are lots of breakfast places around the Subway.” 

May’s brows furrowed. “Oh, no, honey. Trent is driving you, remember? We talked about this last night.” 

Peter had no such recollection of such a conversation, but he just nodded, hoping his smile wasn’t as weak as he felt. “Oh, yeah. Sorry. I’ll get something during my morning Study Hall. Seniors get privileges. Off-campus stuff and all that.” 

“Senior year,” His aunt smiled fondly, and if he didn’t pay attention he could almost imagine that everything was okay. “God, time really flew didn’t it?” 

“I don’t know,” He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck; an old habit. “Junior year seemed really long.”

The words turned to ash in his mouth as soon as he’d uttered them. 

May’s smile fell to pieces and her eyes shot wide. The joke was awful and could not have been uttered at a worse time. Peter did not even think he could pick up the shattered parts of his aunt’s heart as her hands began to shake. Trent stood immediately, falling to his knees beside his wife and cradling her cheeks. He began to calm her down, whispered sweet reassurances in her ear. Peter could not bear to watch. 

“I-I’m so sorry - I,” he choked, eyes watering. “I’ll be out in the car.” 

He ran. 

Trent drove a black Mustang, and Peter had never wanted to be in it less. When his step-uncle emerged from the apartment building, keys in hand, the want dissipated entirely. God this was going to be an atrocious car ride. 

“I didn’t mean it, Trent, I’m so sorry-,”

“Hey,” he held up a hand, silencing the boy. “I get it, bud. You weren’t thinking, you’re sorry. May knows that, Peter.”

The seventeen-year-old swallowed. “It’s just…”

Trent nodded. “Get in the car, champ. Don’t wanna be late for your first day back.” 

He obeyed, settling into the comfy passenger seat. It was a fancy car, and the interior screamed rich kid. Peter felt like he didn’t belong there. But Trent and May lived like that now. They attended parties with rich engineers and their housewives. 

Everything was so different. 

They took off down the busy Manhattan streets. Traffic was surprisingly amiable. The first fifteen minutes were filled with radio music and silence. 

“So, Pete,” Trent began as they neared the school. “You excited?”

No. “I guess. It’s all so weird.” 

“Weird how?” 

“Well, I mean, almost all of my classmates weren’t… blipped, so I won’t know anybody.”

“Opportunity for meeting new people!” Trent grinned, rolling his shoulders. 

Peter shrugged. “Yeah, I guess. I was supposed to have the same math teacher for both junior and senior year, but he retired two years ago, so, that’s a bummer. He was great.”

“Oh, you’ll be alright.” 

He tried to smile, but the dismissiveness of the comment made his throat hurt. He could feel tears burning the edges of his eyes again. “Yeah. I’ve made it through everything else, right?”

“Right!” His step-uncle beamed obnoxiously. “Spiderman fights criminals. Peter Parker-Flannigan can beat Midtown School of Science and Technology!”

“Just Parker,” Peter grimaced.

“Just Parker,” Trent amended. “No hard feelings. I’d wanna keep May’s last name too. She’s an amazing woman.” 

“Yeah,” he didn’t even fake a smile that time. 

The older man’s brows furrowed. Midtown came into view. “What’s that tone about?”

And Peter, who for all his genius can be an idiot sometimes, tells the truth. “She’s just weird around me. She doesn’t - it’s not like it used to be. Kinda hard, ya know?”

Trent suddenly slammed the break. The car screeched to a halt in front of Midtown. He whipped around in his seat to face Peter, expression furious. It was such a drastic change from the man that had been in his seat not sixty seconds ago. “Are you serious right now? Your aunt had to live for five years without you and now because she’s taking a little longer to adjust than suits your liking, you’re acting like a toddler over it? Your  _ seventeen _ , Peter; You know better! She mourned you for years, and then she finally got better. Better enough to move on and finally get back to who she was and then you came back. Of course she’s not going to hug you every morning or ruffle your hair or act normal! Nothing about this is normal Peter! You weren’t there, okay? You have no idea what it was like. You got to wake up after a few seconds of being gone. For us? For May? It was five fucking years. So how about you stop acting like a child and start thinking about other people. Your life could be a whole lot worse.”

_ Your feelings are invalid. Your feelings are invalid. Your feelings are invalid _ . It was the same mantra that he had been saying for years, ever since that kid on the swingset.

Peter felt the horrible familiarity of the numb smile on his lips as he agreed, “Yeah, you’re right Trent. I’m sorry for being so insensitive.”

His step-uncle jerked his head to Peter’s door. “My father would have whipped my ass for that kind of disrespect.” 

If Peter had not been so feeling-less, there might have been a sassy retort about Trent not being his father on his tongue, but all the boy did was grab his backpack and haul himself out of the expensive car. The second his feet hit the sidewalk, Trent revved the vehicle and went on his way, probably going to work to brag about how much money he made. 

Maybe he was a bigger douche than Peter had made him out to be. Damn his trusting heart.

He walked into Midtown like a ghost. For the first time in his entire academic career, he searched for Flash not out of fear, but out of anticipation. Just one person, just one. He just needed one thing to be the same. Flash wouldn’t care about his feelings, but at least he wouldn’t have changed. 

_ Your life could be a whole lot worse _ .

Peter swallowed, blinking away tears. God, he needed to stop crying. 

He settled into his first class, British Literature, and whipped out his phone. He sent a quick text to Ned and MJ, telling them that it was his first day back and he was wishing them the best. Then he opened Pepper’s contact. His fingers froze on the screen for a moment. 

[Looks like I’m going back to Hogwarts. Wish me luck.]

He sighed, turning the device on silent and shoving it in his backpack. His eyes searched through the many occupied desks. He did not know a single person in this room. Dread began to pool in his stomach. No Flash. He swallowed, pulling out his computer and going to Midtown’s website. He searched for the directory in the brief five minutes before the class starting. With each passing second, a frantic sort of weed began to fester inside him. He couldn’t be the only one. 

Flash Thompson. The name seemed to smirk evilly at him through the screen. In bold blue letters under his name it read: transferred to Manhattan Boy’s Private University. His gut flipped. All of them had either graduated or transferred to another school to complete high school. Abraham, Betty, Sally, Cindy, Scott, Jason, Flash. All of them were gone. 

He was the only junior classman that had been blipped. 

He had no one. 

He was  _ alone _ . 

He glanced around the class again as the teacher, Ms. Goffter, introduced herself and the course they were about to “embark on”. Anyone who met his eyes gave him a sad smile. Did he really look that out of place?

Maybe it was because he felt so  _ lost _ .

…

From then on, the days passed as patches of absence and presence. He did well on all his tests, kept his grades up because that was expected. August bled into September and by the time October started Peter had stopped eating meals with Trent and May altogether. He stopped coming home in between school and patrol; they hadn’t noticed that one either. He had convinced May to let him take the Subway again, but he was late the first time he’d tried it because he was so used to leaving from his old apartment and ended up on the other side of Manhattan. He’d almost had a panic attack in the station but an older woman, probably around Pepper’s age, bent down and ran her fingers through his hair, shushing him and whispering that it would be okay; He didn’t believe her, but it was enough to get him back on the train towards Midtown. He was somehow sleeping even less as the weeks continued to cycle past in an odd haze of absence and presence. He explained the bags under his eyes away with “studying” and neither of his guardians pushed - the old May would never have believed such bull. His grades were spectacular (as if he’d let them be any less), but at this point, he wasn’t even sure how he was doing it. He had a sneaking suspicion that his AP Stats professor was just taking pity on him, but Peter was too exhausted half the time to try and be a good person and tell him he didn’t have to let him pass. Some days he woke up and stared at the ceiling until his vision blurred, some days he woke up to the world in horrible HD perfection, every noise and color hitting his head like a sledgehammer. 

The saddest part to Peter was that he wasn’t suicidal. It was so pathetic to say and so insensitive, but at least if he was suicidal he would want to end it all. 

Some sadistic, horrible, weak part of Peter wanted to keep  _ going _ . 

That fucking prick. 

Spiderman though, Spiderman rocked. He wasn’t sure where all the nightly energy came from. Maybe it was just the idea that he could do something helpful, that he could finally save someone, even if he couldn’t save himself. His popularity had skyrocketed, everyone loved him. It was nice. It was nice to be  _ seen _ .

Not in the fame way, never. Peter hated that kind of attention. No. just to be… seen.

So life went on in the same horrible mix of chaotic devastation and numb existence. He would wake up at four, stare at the ceiling or his mirror until the alarm went off, go to school on three hours of sleep, do his homework, go out as Spiderman, and then crawl home, bloody and bruised. 

But hey, his life could be a whole lot worse.

So the story goes.

...

It’s the dog that finally sets everything off.

Peter found a dog. It was a little German Shepherd in an alley, covered in filth and whimpering. She was only a puppy, the poor thing, and Peter had never really understood when people said dogs could act human until he saw her big eyes and he saw himself. Scared, alone, desperate for just someone to love them. One of her ears was straight up and the other flopped against the side of her head. 

She was perfect.

Without a second’s hesitation, he picked the little thing up and trotted back into the crowded street. Captain Stacy raised a brow at the addition in the young hero’s hold. 

“You save puppies now too?” 

Spiderman grinned behind the mask. “I’ve always saved puppies!”

“What are you going to do, keep it?” another officer chuckled, leaning against his police car. 

“Maybe,” he glanced down. The canine had settled into his hands like she belonged there. “Everybody needs somebody, right?” 

Captain Stacy laid a hand on his shoulder. “Thanks for tonight, Spiderman. Good to have you back.”

He hummed. “Yeah. See you around, Cap! Gotta get this precious cargo somewhere warm. November New York is not exactly nice to underfed individuals.”

The man sighed, pinching his nose. “Spidey…”

“Listen, I’ll stop making jokes about homeless people when our governor actually does something about the unemployment rate!” and with that, he flicked his wrist and shot into the air. The puppy howled, and Peter hoped it was in delight, as they soared through the air. She quieted down as they neared May and Trent’s apartment. He giddily slid into his bedroom window, placing the dog on his bed as he slipped out of his Spiderman suit. Not waiting a moment, he scooped the little ball of fur up and practically sprinted into the kitchen. 

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting. “Look what I found on patrol!” 

As soon as May’s eyes landed on his new friend, her frown deepened. “No.” 

Peter’s heart formed another crack. “What?”

“I said no, Peter,” she shook her head, placing the salt shaker next to the stove. “We are not keeping a dog.”

He swallowed. “But we have so much room! I know our old apartment wouldn’t allow animals, but this place does! Ms. Tammy next door has four cats - I’m so glad I’m not allergic anymore, dear goodness - so what’s one German Shepherd?”

“German Shepherd?” Trent’s brows furrowed in irritation. “Do you know how big those things get? Your aunt’s right, Pete. No way is that dog staying in my house.” 

Peter huffed, his own annoyance beginning to swell. Could they not see how much he wanted this? He had asked for nothing since he’d come back. He’d been the most un-wanting person in the world. Could he not just have this? “I’ll deal with it. She can stay in my room. You’ll never have to see her.” 

“She’ll stink up this entire apartment,” Trent complained. 

“Not to mention the fur,” his aunt supplied, stirring whatever she was cooking. 

The puppy, probably sensing her new master’s trepidation, whined. 

“And the noises,” The man added scornfully, sneering at the dog. 

Peter curled her further into his chest, narrowing his eyes. “I’ll take care of her. I’ll look after her and clean up the fur. I’ll even pay for her food and grooming and vet visits! I’ll do everything; you won’t have to worry about her at all, just please-!”

“We are not keeping that  _ thing _ !” May shouted, slamming the pan onto the counter. 

He was so tired of being alone, so tired of having no one, and in that weakened emotional state, he cried, “But I want a friend!” 

“You have friends!” 

“No I  _ don’t _ !” he yelled, brows furrowing in incredulous confusion. The puppy yelped. “MJ is twenty-two and lives in Los Angeles! Ned’s family moved to fucking Italy and he has an amazing European boyfriend! Hell, even Flash’s family had him change schools and we weren’t friends but at least it was someone! I have nobody!” 

“Don’t you dare use that tone with me, Peter,” she barked. 

“What tone?” desperate? Lonely? Depressed? This was it. He was cracking. Oh no.

“Don’t raise your voice like that, young man,” Trent snapped, wrapping an arm around May’s shoulder. 

“Don’t fucking ‘young man’ me,” Tony’s face flashed across his mind and he pushed it away. “You are  _ not  _ my father.” 

“Don’t swear at him!” May snarled. 

“Oh, what else should I not do, May? Don’t talk in this tone, don’t raise your voice, don’t swear. Am I in prison and nobody told me?” 

“Oh, don’t be a child-,”

“I AM A CHILD!” 

_ Invalid. Invalid. Invalid.  _

“Has everyone suddenly forgotten that? Has everyone just fucking lost all sense? I’m seventeen! I’m still a child! And bloody fucking hell if I haven’t earned a good cry now and then with all the shit I’ve gone through! I’m not some seasoned veteran, but I’ve seen war. I’m not some medical professional, but I’ve sewn up wounds. I’m not some hero whose been at the game for ten years - I’m no Tony Stark - but I’ve had to save myself for years because no one else would and then-,”

Then he had Tony. 

And now he doesn’t anymore. 

“Peter, you chose to be a hero,” May fumed. “You chose that life for yourself. You knew what you were getting into.”

_ You knew what you signed up for. It’s your own fault. _

He squinted. Was he serious? “I was hurting!”

She growled. “You think I don’t understand that?!” 

Peter wanted to disappear. He was so fucking furious. Could something not be about him for one fucking second? Did he always have to be less important? Why couldn’t his problems be relevant, understood, fucking heard? “Don’t turn this back on you! I have been nothing but good and silent since I came back! I have done everything you needed, denied myself the ability to grieve and cry and break because you can hardly stand the sight of me, May! But never once - never once have you asked if I’m okay.” 

“You weren’t there-,”

“I DIED!” He screamed, choking on his own sob halfway through.

Peter swallowed, burning hot tears rolling down his cheeks with the weight of anvils. “I died, May. I was dead. And don’t you dare say ‘you were dead, you didn’t feel a thing’. I died and it was painful. It was so painful, and do you know why? Because my superhealing kept trying to hold me together. It took longer for me, longer than anyone else, and I remember all of it. And then - then there’s the fucking kicker. I didn’t get to just cease and then be again. I was awake, horribly, torturously awake for five whole fucking years - and let me tell you, it felt longer - in the Soul Stone. So yes, I do understand the five years thing because I didn’t just die, May. I was in hell for five years and I was alone.” 

“Peter, you need to calm down.” Trent tried valiantly, but Peter was done. 

He was just so fucking done. 

He was not a selfish person. He’d never been a selfish person. But for once, for one fucking time in his life, he wished someone would let him be. 

You know what? Fuck someone  _ letting  _ him be. 

He was done. 

He deserved better. 

“No. I don’t.” He said, monotone and to the point. “I am allowed to feel this.” 

Peter looked towards May, towards a woman he no longer knew, and he did not glare. He did not hate her or spit at her, though some might have said he’d earned it. He just felt sad for her. She had let her grief consume her. Peter had had many opportunities in his life to let his own sorrow do the same. 

He had not let it. 

“I am allowed to feel. I am allowed to be angry and sad and furious and scared. I am allowed to be a human being. I am allowed to be a child. And I will go to Tony and Pepper, because they’ll actually love me.”

“How dare you-,”

“May, look at me,” Peter gestured. “Do - do we even know each other anymore? When was the last time you could hold my eyes for more than ten seconds without freaking out or shutting down? We aren’t healthy anymore, May. I know that you lost so much when Thanos won, I truly get that, on so many fucking levels, but something broke, okay? We’ve been dancing around it for months now and I’m finally pulling out the guts and saying it. We are not healthy for each other. You can barely stand the sight of me, May, and I have let myself believe that it’s all my fault when it isn’t!”

He gasped at his own statement. 

“It’s… it’s not my fault.” 

“Peter-,”

But he overpowered Trent again. “I will go to Tony and Pepper, and if they don’t want me then I’ll go to Steve and Bucky and Sam. And if they don’t, then I’ll go to T’challa and Shuri, I’ll find the Guardians, I’ll send for Loki and Thor, I’ll go stay with Clint and Wanda and the Barton family. I’ll phone Harley Keener, or Rhodey, or Happy, I’ll get in touch with whoever I need to until I find somebody who will love me like you used to!”

He lifted his chin. For the first time in seven months, he felt sure. He felt a little like the Peter Parker of older times. He felt like the boy who had fought Vulture and  _ won _ . He felt like the boy who held up a warehouse and  _ climbed out _ . He felt like the boy who defeated his own demons and  _ lived _ . 

“You deserved to move on, May. You deserve a happy ending.” 

Her eyes were wide but hard, cold, distant. Peter was right. They didn’t know each other anymore. 

“So do I.” 

He turned and left his guardians in shocked silence. He gathered his belongings in a bag in less than ten minutes, slipped on his suit, attached the puppy to his chest, and swung away. 

He never went back to that apartment. 

He also decided to name the dog Natasha.

...

He started living on top of the Tower. It was odd. He still had access to the top three floors, Tony’s private floors, and Friday let him in the moment he first arrived. It was always fully stocked with food and Peter’s favorite drinks. He had a feeling that the AI was just happy to have him around again. It was nice, being liked. His old room had not changed. He had walked in and immediately lost it. Star Wars posters, Rubix cubes. Even his old water bottle, which he could remember leaving on his desk the day before the flying donut spaceship appeared in the atmosphere, was still on his desk. 

It almost felt like he was home.

Natasha grew so large in such a short amount of time. Within a few weeks of his new self-sufficiency, she was up to his shins. She had eaten her share as well, and finally looked healthy. She was the best thing that had happened to him since he’d come back.

The first time he slept in his bed, he slept for sixteen hours straight. 

It was wonderful. 

Peter smiled, a true smile, small and sad but it was something, as he woke up for school. His alarm rang a moment later. He rolled over in bed, reaching across Natasha’s furry form to turn it off. She yawned adorably, her little nose rubbing against Peter’s arm as she too began to start her day. As Peter got ready for school, she would immediately run out onto the large balcony to do her business before sprinting back to circle her master as he waltzed into kitchen to get their breakfast started. 

Mondays were becoming hard departures between the pair. “Nattie, Nattie, you know I have to go to school. You have all the toys you could want. Go on. I’ll be back around three. Lock up for me, Fri.” 

“Of course, sir.” 

“Thanks, Fri.” 

“Of course, Peter.” 

He hummed and waved goodbye to his beloved canine. He entered the elevator to the roof and leaned against the walls. 

It was so odd for such a difference to occur only after a few weeks. His heart was still so cracked, still so yearning for Tony and Pepper, for his May, and yet… it did not hurt so much anymore. 

Dogs really were a man’s best friend, huh?

He swung to school. He went about his day like any other. May and Trent had not called to inform Midtown of his running away. He was not sure they really cared anymore. That was alright with him (it wasn’t). He’d be alright. 

He always was. 

They switched up lab partners in AP Chem. They had an uneven number in the class, so Peter usually did all his assignments alone. He was shocked when another human sat in the seat next to him and began to set up shop. He glanced up to meet friendly eyes. 

“Hi. Peter, right?” 

He floundered for a moment. “Uh, y-yeah! Peter Parker. That’s - that’s me.” 

“I’m Brad.” he smiled. “Wanna be partners?”

Peter huffed in elated surprise. “Totally.”

Brad was smart. He was funny and a little awkward. They got along great. 

The intercom switched on before lunch, informing all the seniors that Principal Morita was letting all seniors with free periods in the afternoon leave to go home.

So, his day was only getting better. 

And then.

Then  _ it  _ happened. 

So the story goes.

“Nattie! I’m home early! They let all the seniors out at lunch and…” he trailed off. Now, he’d had this kind of hallucination before. Never had it been so damn lifelike. Oh, he knew this day was too good to be true. He must be dreaming. 

Tony cracked a trembling smile. “Um, Pepper said she called.” 

Oh, fuck, it sounded like him too.

Peter stared, tears gathering in his eyes immediately. His keys and backpack fell to the floor with a  _ thump _ . His eyes stung because he wouldn’t blink, terrified that if he lost his gaze for a simple second, the vision would disappear. This was by far the best hallucination he’d had. He was certain he looked like he was horrified, but the hallucination wouldn’t care. He wouldn’t care what Peter look like, he wouldn’t care if Peter was sad, he wouldn’t care if Peter messed up, if Peter got a B on a test, if Peter forgot to do the dishes, if Peter brought a dog home, if Peter was hurt, if Peter was struggling, if Peter was numb. 

Tony would love him anyway. That’s just who Tony was. Even if he wasn’t real. Even if Peter knew that the sleep deprivation and hunger were finally catching up to him. Tony loved him. 

No exceptions. 

“She, uh, said the call wouldn’t go through so I, well, I flew over. Tracked your phone. I know you hate it when I do that, but I - I needed to see you.” The hallucination shifted onto his other foot. Peter could see the high tech prosthetic as he moved. It caught the sun’s light. It was beautiful. “I… I just really needed to see you, kid.”

The seventeen-year-old gasped. The nickname hit him straight in the chest and he stumbled backward, his hip striking the kitchen counter. Tony surged forward and instantly reached out to steady him.

Peter froze. He was touching him. Tony’s warm hands (how was that prosthetic warm?) cupped his elbows gently, worried face searching his. 

He… 

“Are - you’re  _ real _ ?”

Tony laughed faintly. “Yeah, yeah, kid. I’m real.” 

Peter wanted to have a panic attack. He wanted to scream and cry and shout and laugh and everything else. What? What the fuck was going on? This was real? This was real. Tony, his dad, was in front of him. He was back. 

Oh my god, he was back. 

“Can - can you say my name?” 

The billionaire’s brows furrowed, but there was something so safe in his eyes. “Peter. Peter Parker.” 

A pause. 

“My Peter Parker.” 

The first sob slipped past Peter’s chapped lips. 

Tony reached up and cupped his face. “Hey, hey, buddy. What’s wrong?” 

That’s all it takes, isn’t it? Just for someone to  _ care _ . 

And he  _ broke _ .

His walls of denial, his catapults of deflection, and his ditches of despair were no match against this man. This man stormed into Peter’s shattered soul with hot glue and duct tape. He ripped apart his own heart to mend Peter’s back together. He burned his hands wiping away Peter’s flaming tears. He scarred his skin reaching to resurrect the broken pieces of Peter’s happiness. 

This man was Tony Stark, and he loved Peter Parker enough for the both of them.

“I’m gone, Mr. Stark. I’m gone. I’ve been gone for - for  _ years _ , and nobody is looking for me.” 

“I’m looking, Peter,” he promised, and Peter latched onto that promise. “I’m looking, bud. I looked. I looked for so long, buddy. I invented time travel for you, Pete. I have pictures all over my house that have you in them. You’re my son, Peter. You’re my kid.” 

Tears, tears, tears. “I’m  _ broken _ .” 

Tony rested their foreheads together and forced the young hero to meet his eyes. “No, no, Peter. You aren’t broken. You’re just a little lost.” 

Peter sobbed harder, curling further into an embrace that he was sure would lead him home. 

“But don’t worry,” Tony kissed his forehead. “I found you.” 

Tony was right. Tony was always right. Seven months. Seven months of nothing and then suddenly Tony was here, right in front of him, holding him like he’d been wishing to be held since they had returned. Something so deep inside him began to mend, to heal itself as Tony’s arms wound themself tighter around his shaking body. Something that had been missing since he had first stepped foot in May’s apartment came back with vigor and lit a fire inside his soul. There was warmth again, warmth enough to make him want to laugh and so he  _ did _ . 

Peter Parker laughed for the first time in seven months and damn, did it feel good. 

A high pitched bark pierced the atmosphere and Natasha the German Sheperd puppy came racing into the kitchen. 

Tony pulled away, the look in his eyes so much that Peter almost had to look away, and glanced down at the newest member of the conversation. “W-what?”

“She’s my dog,” Peter gasped. “I- can she come? I can’t leave her here. She doesn’t have anyone else and-,”

“Peter, I’ll bring the whole fucking zoo if that’s what you want,” Tony pulled him close again, so close that Peter could hear the wonderful, constant sound of his father’s heartbeat right against his ear. “Anything you want, kiddo, as long as I have you.”

“You have me.” 

“Yeah I do,” Tony rubbed their noses together. Peter giggled.

“Wel, finders keepers, right? You found me.” 

“And I’ll keep you,” Tony whispered, tears sliding down his already stained cheeks. He reached up and reverently ran his fingers through Peter’s disheveled curls. “Forever and ever and for anything after that.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Peter sobbed again, but the tears were so happy. “Then let’s go home, Tony.”

Both heroes grinned. 

“Let’s go  _ home _ .” 

…

Hours later, when he was curled up against Tony’s side in his lovely cabin in the woods, Morgan Stark would come running up to him. She’d launch herself into his chest and squeal, “I found you!” 

Peter would laugh wetly and warmly, wrapping his arms around the little girl he’d never met. “W-what?”

“I found you, Petey!” she would lift her head and shake her brown locks with childish glee. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

And Peter would meet his father’s eyes and see tears there. He would let out a gasp, and then a moan, and then a sob, and he would cry and cry until he felt like he was going to be sick and then he would start laughing, holding Morgan close to his chest and kissing her hair as Tony leaned down to do the same to him. 

He’d been found. 

Pepper settled on his other side, rubbing his back soothingly. She’d meet her husband’s teary gaze and say something about the insanity of their little family. 

And Peter would smile. 

By God, he’d fucking  _ beam _ . 

He’d been found. 

He had been found. 

Tony pulled his son tight against his side, kissing his forehead and holding him there. 

And he was never going to be lost again.

So the story goes. 


End file.
